THE NEXT MORNING, I BROUGHT THE PAPERS
Exactly like Ethan requested.
But I didn’t come alone.
Behind me walked the hospital administrator.
Two attorneys.
And a representative from the state medical board.
Ethan’s face turned white.
“Claire?”
I placed my folder on his tray.
“What is this?”
“Open it.”
He didn’t move.
So I did.
I laid out the photographs of his actual lab reports.
One by one.
No cancer.
No malignancy.
Healthy results.
Ethan stared at them.
Then Dr. Klein appeared near the doorway.
He tried to step back out.
The medical-board officer blocked him.
“Dr. Klein.”
The administrator’s voice was calm.
“We need to talk.”
Ethan sat upright.
Not slowly.
Not weakly.
Straight up.
The dying groom disappeared before my eyes.
“You went through my things?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the bed.
“And now I’m going through the rest.”
THE REST OF THE FOLDER
I lifted the mattress.
Pulled out the manila envelope.
This time, nobody stopped me.
I opened the pages I hadn’t had time to read.
First:
A plane ticket.
One-way.
Departing Bellmere in three days.
Passenger:
ETHAN.
Only Ethan.
Then the trust paperwork.
My trust.
Yellow signature tabs on every page.
Then debt notices.
Loans.
Judgments.
Collection demands.
Numbers large enough to make my stomach turn.
Everything clicked.
The fake diagnosis.
The rushed wedding.
The hospital room.
The paperwork.
The urgency.
The flight.
“YOU WERE GOING TO STEAL FROM ME.”
I looked at Ethan.
“You faked terminal cancer.”
He said nothing.
“So I would marry you quickly.”
“Claire—”
“You were going to use your rights as my husband to access my trust.”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“Then explain the plane ticket.”
He reached for my hand.
I stepped back.
“You planned to take the money and leave Bellmere.”
“No.”
